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User blog:High Prince Imrahil/Return of Herendil Part 6
The cold snow of the Misty Mountains crunched softly under the black leather boots of Travious and Warpig as they trekked side-by-side up a steep slope and into a canyon. "He was here no more then a few hours ago!" shouted Warpig over the howling wind as he knelt and saw a button from a Numenorean uniform laying no more then three inches in the snow.. Travious and Warpig were on a quest to find Herendil who mysteriously disappeared while going through the mountains no more then two days ago. They walked along the route he had planned on taking through the mountains. "Mevans Almighty. . .” muttered Travious sadly, seeing something in the snow at the far corner of the canyon. The two warriors both saw what they had hoped and prayed they wouldn't find: Numenorean blood and Herendil's luggage thrown crossed the ground. "Goblins" uttered Warpig "I'll slay every last one of those wretched beasts. . . " Travious simply stood by, stunned. For so many years Herendil had been his friend, and now. . . Herendil was dead. Travious dropped to his knees and uttered an anguished cry of sorrow that echoed from canyon and crevice, filling the air. Warpig knelt and discarded his helm. "Where is his body?" said Travious in a hoarse voice "We must make sure it is borne in honor to Dorwinion or Fikhîb-dûm." But as both looked 'round they saw no body. Herendil's luggage was there and his horse lay rotting and bloated upon the road, but there was no sign of Herendil himself. Nor was there even any sign of sword or shield or armour. "Perhaps the goblins took his body" said Travious "to strip it of his valuable armour. . ." But silently a hope grew within both: perhaps Herendil wasn't dead, but had been taken prisoner by the goblins! Perhaps, just perhaps they might see there friend alive before the Final Battle of Dagor Dagorath. And as each glanced at the other, each saw the other's thoughts and no words were even spoken as they set off in a sprint towards the direction of the Goblin fortress. . . '-Yet even as they rushed to rescue Herendil from the hands of goblins, Herendil lay perfectly safe in the abandoned halls of Kvoth. . . -' Herendil looked utterly amazed. "Kvoth!" he repeated as if to himself, for to Numenoreans the ancient city of Kvoth was but a legend, the greatest city of the First Age that had unexpectedly caved in and slain all its inhabitants. Presently the old wizard sat down on the old wooden chair at Herendil's bedside. "I suppose you are wondering how you got here?" "Indeed. . . I remember little, other then that I was traveling through a canyon, and... that I was ambushed by a goblin horde. . . " "That is when I found you" said Copn "I heard the rumor of goblin warcries on my morning walk and saw you just as they were preparing to lob your head off. . . I drove them off with mighty magic and spells, but I could not prevent that. . ." The wizard gestured to Herendil's bandaged leg. "But. . . Kvoth. . ." said Herendil "It is only a myth, a legend out of the forgotten days. . ." "Though the days may be forgotten, this place is no myth" said Copn, and Herendil sensed a tinge of sadness in his voice "I am the last citizen of this forgotten city." "What happened? Why was this great city abandoned?" said Herendil, but the moment the words escaped his lips he regretted them and knew the great sadness his question would return to Copn The ancient wizard gazed into the distance for a long time, recalling days long past. . . "The black plague" he said finally. "What is the black plague?" said Herendil Copn turned back and looked Herendil in the eye, his very stare seeming to hold the sadness of Dagor Bragollach. "I was once a mighty lord" said the wizard "And ruled this great city alongside the likeness of Thorin Ironshield and Gandalf I. But one day, just as the First Age of the Sun was brought to a close, a strange disease took some of the miners in the Second Deep. They were found bloated, still clutching they're pickaxes. Indeed, besides the look of lifeless anguish upon their stiff faces the only symptom was strange yellow mucus that covered their upper lips. We thought this strange and sought to quarantine ourselves, shutting the doors of Kvoth. . . yet what we thought would be merely a passing disease dragged on and on, costing the life of thousands. The doors of Kvoth remained shut to the outside world until there were nigh a hundred of us left. . . then there were fifty. . . then there were twenty. . . then there was me. I was the only survivor of the horrible plague. Yet what was I to do? I couldn't open the doors, for the disease contained here is enough to wipe out the entire race of man, dwarf, and elf. Thus I stayed here, a silent guardian to make sure that none enter here and that it is not discovered. . . Indeed, you are the first other here since Thorin Stonehelm finally passed away." Herendil was touched by Copn's sadness. . . "Nobody left?" "None were left alive." There was a moment of silence. Then suddenly a look of surprise came into Copn's eyes as if he had suddenly seen something that troubled him. "You must go, Herendil!" "Pardon?" "Your friends! I can feel that they are in great danger! You must help them!" The next thing Herendil knew, his armour and sword were thrust into his arms and he was shoved out of a secret door and into the cold snows of the Misty Mountains, still stunned. "Go now East! I can feel that Travious and Warpig are in great danger!" The secret stone door slammed shut and Herendil was once again alone in the snows. . . he struck off towards the East. Category:Blog posts